Halo Fanon:Kanna Reserve
This page is for people who post things a little bit... too early. =Kana Reserve= 7 9th of August, 2607, 9:41 Theta Nero System, Kanna, Aleph City, Industrial West: The three phantoms flew into the outskirts of the previously quiet city. Explosions and glistening fireballs erupted unexpectedly into the evening air. The distant ripple and boom of weapon fire cut through each Brute here like knife to butter. They were ready but the death toll on there side so far had been high. The leading Phantom’s pilot barked over the radio. “We’re coming in hot. Load your weapons and shoe no mercy.” The com went dead and so was the uneasy silence in the cargo bay of the dropship. Their captain spoke: “When we reach the ground we desecrate any enemy, on foot or machine. We punch straight through their defences and each pack will flank them. Watch each others backs and give them hell!” For once the pack livened up as they roared in excitement. However one did not. Novus. A young Brute Minor brought up to despise and hate any foreign specie except the Prophets. He was ready for war but concentration filled him as he watched the streaks of plasma and metal shards flying around. He was going to be there. Any minute now… Then, without any warning the Phantom to the left of his was hit by a round of missiles. The nose of the ship dipped and burnt as it plummeted into the engulfing industrial metal of the city. A few Brutes onboard Novus’s ship were thrown off balance, by the shockwave, but recovered to hold their war-ready posture tightly inside the cargo bay. “Unload Brutes and good luck!” The pilot shouted over the com. The Phantom swivelled to the side and dropped steadily onto an asphalt area. Novus was quick to load his Nailer Rifle and to jump off the dropship. He landed and then saw the full hell of war. It was his first time and despite the training he was scared. Even for a Brute; the feeling of near death and killing stirred around in his body. He ran along side the pack hugging close to the building’s walls searching for a sense of salvation. He was far off that. Human marines appeared from around the corners of the street, which they were running down. Novus quickly jumped into a nearby ally and slammed his back onto the wall for cover. He popped his head around and shot blindingly at the Humans who were taking cover behind buildings and construction vehicles. His rounds missed and then the hissing spit of incoming fire entered his ears as enemy bullets pinged and smashed into the nearby wall. He flew back into cover but the adrenaline started to kick in. He felt ready and pumped up. Then the anger came: He saw dead Brute bodies with smashed armour and blood sprayed rubble underneath. He then saw another Minor get a heavy round shot through the skull. Crimson blood spewed into the air as the lifeless body fell with no effort. The blood marked the beginning of this war: a war, which the Remnants were going to win. Novus switched back to the offensive, this time firing in short controlled bursts. He instantly hit a Human soldier in the chest and made the small pathetic body fly onto their own land. He liked the feeling of revenge. His pack was still intact and more rounds hit marines. Novus fired again at a retreating soldier and pierced the already weak shields of the poor human. The next burst of super hot sun-glowing rounds cut through the armour and into the Human’s back. The body fell to the floor. However resistance was still strong and more incoming fire hit the wall and this time Novus’s shields. He quickly took cover and then blind fired until the clip was empty. He quickly reloaded and aimed out again to kill off some more of the Humans. Rounds of the Nailer Rifle struck shields and skulls of the falling Humans and a small victory, in this vast blood ridden battle, started to appear. Then it went. As more marines retreated hopelessly; two enemy Warthogs came hurtling from around the corner. They skidded to a halt and the infantry firing stopped. They had gauss cannons on the back. Novus had no idea what the Humans called their hardware but what he did know is that it caused a lot of damage. They shot their ear splitting super sonic projectiles at the pack and instantly half of the remaining Brutes were either blown apart, in a sprawl of blood and body parts, or thrown off their feet, into bone cracking impacts on the surrounding buildings or construction vehicles. The Captain of the pack ran over and was hit by a few rifle rounds but still managed to make it to the ally where Novus was. Another three Brutes, out of the original twelve, came rushing over to the ally too. A gauss round ripped open a struggling Brute, who also tried to make it. Anger filled Novus like the scent of blood and fire did to his nose. “COME ON, WE NEED TO MOVE AROUND THE SIDE AND RENDEZVOUS WITH THE REMAINING FORCES.” The Captain shouted and started to run down the ally. The Brutes followed shortly behind with doubts of whether there would be any remaining forces left. Novus heard explosions and gunfire getting ever closer to his rushing body. Was that all this life offered him? Then again, was that all he was born for? He loaded his rifle with a new magazine and ran faster. He ran faster into battle. The battle, he was going to win… 8 All around, nothing but silence. The hunter and his prey. Without a single sound, a single giveaway, the hunter worked his way into position, his squad a few feet away, watching with baited breath. The sniper reached his position, a small knoll in an endless field. Half a click away, his target waited, unmoving. The ODST had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and it was now. He was upwind, out of sight range, and was too quiet to be heard. All it would take was one shot. He brought his rifle to bear, and took careful, precise aim. He would only have one shot, and couldn't waste it. He was shaky. Nervous. He expelled those thoughts quickly, and focused on the target. He brought his aim to the center of mass, the quickest way to make an easy kill. He counted to himself, 3, 2, 1! and fired. The bullet rushed through the air, a hungry bloodhound bounding for its target. In less than a second, it was over. The bullet pounded into the target, puncturing and fracturing it with ease. His squad erupted into cheers, the bullseye completely erased from the brute-shaped target. Roger Wilkoe, a Sergeant, was the single best shot in the ODST 105th. Or so he claimed. His skill and knowledge was proof enough to his platoon, Blackheart. As the grunts celebrated, a single fellow trooper walked up to him. Jeremy Patterson, his closest friend, most determined rival, and leader of Blackheart. They always tried to outdo each other, but sniping was Wilkoe's specialty. "So, how'd I do boss?" "Not bad, Wilkoe. I've seen better, though." "I don't believe it. That was a perfect shot!" "Too long to aim. There's no guarantee the Brute wouldn't have moved, or figured out your position. If you want to be as efficient as possible, you need to determine exactly where you need to aim, even if you or him moves. Like this." Without pause, the First Sergeant drew a pistol from his side, brought it up, and without looking, fired. The Brute target's head exploded in a shrapnel of splinters and dust. The entire squad fell silent, and after a moment's pause doubled their previous cheers. Wilkoe paused, contemplating a response. "Well, you have an unfair advantage anyways. You'd never have pulled if off if your grandpa hadn't been a Spartan." "I'll give you this, the training CJ gave to me was worth a lot, but this--" he paused to blow imaginary smoke off his pistol. "--is all skill." "Whatever you say, sir." Wilkoe said with a chuckle. Before he could continue, though, another Blackheart ran up. Lance Corporal Jose Marez was panting, barely able to breathe after an apparent Kilometer-long sprint. He finally managed to wheeze out "All 105th... report... base... important!" and fell into the waiting arms of two other Shock Troopers. Roger looked Jeremy in the eye. "If it was enough to make Jose move, it must be important." His voice increased to a baritone yell. "All Blackhearts, report to base, now!" Platoon members on the other side of the field heard him, and the entire Platoon formed into a line formation. First Sergeant Patterson demanded excellent presentation. In unison, 35 Troopers began the long march back to base. ---- 9th of August, 2607, 9:50 Theta Nero System, Kanna, Aleph City, Industrial West: Yithii grew impatient and uncomfortable. The Darkbrood and her Captain Kindik'Yar were not a respected duo, and the Jiralhanae had only given them three ancient Spirits to drop off 70 Kig'Yar. As he dealt with them more and more, Yithii began to understand why Humans called them brutes. Met with shouts of "Hallelujah!", the pilots announced they had reached the dropzone. They were to meet with a Jiralhanae (Brute, Yithii thought with a smirk) pack and assist them in any way possible. A Spirit to their right stopped on a rooftop to drop off the Snipers, the other two dropped them in a cramped street. Several Humans fought a Brute below, exchanging shots. An enemy vehicle approached, its Gauss cannon ripped the Brute to shreds. One Spirit stopped above it, and dropped its payload on it: Thirty Kig'Yar armed with Cutlasses. They assaulted the vehicle from every direction, cutting its crew to pieces with their refined melee weapons. Three of them jumped inside, their bodies barely able to fit in this alien construction, and began to analyze the controls. Finally, Yithii's Spirit stopped, and dropped off his lance directly behind the Humans. Before they hit the ground, an effective wall had been made by their point defense gauntlets. The Humans turned to fire, but Yithii had trained his Kig'Yar well, and none flinched under the onslaught. Above them, the Snipers took aim, and a volley annihilated the Humans, most killed on the spot. However, a single Human clung to life, and turned on his back, his Rifle aimed at a sniper. He took a single shot, and the Kig'Yar's head exploded in a fountain of gore. Before he could take aim again, the body fell from the building, and miraculously landed on the Human, crushing him in his weakened state. Before they had any time to relax, another squad of a dozen Humans turned the corner in front of them, one armed with a rocket launcher. Yithii knew they couldn't survive this, and began to order a retreat. Before the words could be uttered, however, he heard a horn honk from a Human vehicle. The Gauss vehicle behind them hit a rock, and flew through the air above the shield wall, manned by three Kig'Yar. The Gauss Cannon roared to life, and extinguished three Humans, including the rocketeer. It landed on top of two more, scattering the terrified Humans. Yithii's lance barked and howled in victory, as the Snipers came down to join them, the Cutlass Pirates from behind. The group relaxed, and began to search for the pack they had been sent to support. MasterGreen999 19:48, 26 July 2008 (UTC) 15 "Here they Coooommmmme!" The cry of the sentry snapped Puller out of his daydream. "Phantoms, 10 'o clock!" "Stand firm 43, don't betray your positions. Mark the troop hatches and wait until those Phantoms back off, you know what to do boys." "We'll get 'em sir." "Dang there's a lot of them, I see at least seven." "Keep it quiet guys." The lead Phantom slowly touched down, and out of its troop hatch a lone Jackal appeared, sweeping the area with his weapon, then waving the rest of the troops to come on. Within seconds, hundreds of Brutes and Jackals had swarmed the landing pad, dividing into squads and packs, and moving towards the silent, drab buildings that circled the landing pad. The strong scent of Brute perked Puller's nose. "When you can smell 'em it's time to fight," he mumbled "Four-three, time to fight!" The roar of thousands of round per minute slashing into the Covenant ranks tore the quiet air, replacing it with the thump of lead against bodies, the screams of the dying, and the incessant thunder of every weapon ONI 43 had. Puller chucked grenades until his arm became sore, watching shrapnel and explosions shatter Covenant troops, twisting shredded corpses in grotesque positions. But somehow, a pack of Brutes managed to survive the hail of fire and make it to ONI's lines. Puller, swiveling from the waist and firing controlled bursts from his carbine, quickly killed two Brutes, and wounded another, but then the shouts of the Brutes came to his ears, growls of "Marus!Marus!Marus!." Turning, Puller saw a massive Brute charging towards him, carrying a pair of what look like a pair of conjoined Spikers. Puller, emptied the last of his carbine ammo at the Brute, but the charging Chieftain never flinched. Drawing his pistol, Puller fired a series of calculated bursts at the Chieftain's head. Blood, flesh, and bone sprayed the air, but the Chieftain kept coming. Reloading and firing as fast as he could, Puller watched the rounds tear into the Chieftain. Then only feet away from Puler, the Chieftain swung his mighty weapon. Out of ammo Puller could only duck, but once the Spiker's massive blades had cleared his head, he rose and shoved the weapon. The Chieftain, unable to check the momentum of a blow meant to decapitate a Human, axed himself in the arm. Snarling the Cheiftan seized Puller by the throat, preparing to rip him to shreds. For a moment the two say each other eye-to-eye. The yellow, bloodshot eyes of the Brute met the Green ones of the Human for a moment. The Brute was poised to add one more mongrel human to his kill count... FightWithHonor 23 The stalemate continued, as Yithii's lance marched forward. In the last half hour, they'd only advanced a couple of feet, and were being threatened from all sides, as radar picked up a team of Humans flanking from their left. But without warning, they vanished. The snipers directed their aim towards the alleyway, but lowered their weapons, as a pack of several dozen Brutes arrived. Two hopped on to a smoldering vehicle, and fired their weapons into the bunker. The firing stopped, the gunner dead or wounded. The Chieftain, dressed in ornate golden armor approached Yithii. The Cutthroat turned to face the Brute, refusing to back down even when faced by the vastly superior creature. With a low snarl dressed into his voice, Yithii crowed out: "Who are you, and where have you been? We've been waiting for a half hour, and I've lost two more Kig'Yar in that time." The Chieftain leaned in closer, his breath pushing back the quills on Yithii's head. "I am Chieftain Lepigok, and you should count your blessings we are here at all. There are dozens of more important targets, the fact that you had stolen one of Warthogs was the only reason we bothered to come." Yithii glared at the Chieftain, his seemingly blind eyes flared to life, a hating fire burning within. The Chieftain rose with a huff of half-approval. Yithii began to explain the situation. "We have been pinned down for a while now. We've taken significant casualties from those bunkers and their MG nests. You seem to have stalled them for a moment, so I suggest we press our advantage while they're still taking cover. Send in three Jiralhanae-" Yithii wasn't stupid, and wouldn't dare call a Chieftain a Brute. Though he hated the apes, he loved himself more. "to each MG nest, 6 to the bunker. I'll send in 5 Kig'Yar Cutlasses to back you up at each." Lepigok contemplated this, deciding whether as many as a dozen of his soldiers were worth destroying several Humans. "Very well," he said with a devilish grin on his face. "but you shall lead the bunker assault yourself." Yithii was flabbergasted. Though he was physically inferior, he was front-line fodder. He would be sure to alert Kindik'Yar about this, who would likely alert the Pirate Lord. He would have revenge then. But for now, it was best to comply. "Very well." The Lance leader exclaimed. His Point Defense gauntlet flared to life in his right hand, as his left drew his cutlass, threaded with extremely sharp diamond. One good slash would cut through any pathetic attempt the Humans used for armor. As his respective group charged the bunker, he noticed that among the supporting Brutes, Lepigok charged among them. He remembered then that Chieftains were just as brutal warriors as their packs, and would normally lead melee assaults themselves. The group burst through the entrance. Just to their right, a Human lay dead, several nailer rounds embedded in his chest. A single spiker round stuck through the back of his head. Apparently, a lucky shot had caught him mid-scream. Seven remaining Humans were scattered around the poorly-made bunker, only about 20x20 feet. As a Brute charged a Marine armed with a shotgun, the desperate Human fired, dropping the Brute. Few suits of power armor could stand against a point-blank blast from a shotgun. However, two of the Cutlasses charged him next, nimbly avoiding the pellets and descending on him like hawks. He was ripped to pieces, forced to watch as his limbs were severed one by one. In another corner, three of the defenders tackled Lepigok. He chortled with excitement as he grabbed one attempting to strangle him. He lifted him close to his face, and a vicious bite tore his head from the now-limp body. Lepigok dropped it to the floor as he jumped into the air. He landed on his back, crushing the other two. He was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Another Brute picked up a Kig'Yar, and threw it at a Human. The Kig'Yar went mad with bloodlust, as he stabbed the Human repeatedly, using the cutlass to pluck out her innards one by one. Before he could finish, however, another Human assaulted him pointing an SMG into his face. An entire clip of lead shredded the Cutlass, his body barely recognizable as anything but a bloody rag when it hit the floor. Yithii took this moment of anger to dive into the fray, cutting the sixth human at the gut, blood and organs spilling onto the floor. The Human fell dead. Yithii laughed as he watched the carnage, unable to control himself at the hilarity of it all. But behind him, he heard a rustling noise. He turned, as did the rest of the Covenant, to see the Human with the SMG grinning with a certain madness in his smile. In his hand he held a tiny button. He pressed it, yelling "Say goodnight, bitches!" The entire block was destroyed as 200 pounds of C4 beneath detonated in an inferno of destruction. ---- The Darkbrood had performed exceedingly well in the space battle. At the moment, he had two frigates and a destroyed under his belt, as he went for a third frigate. The corsair wove its way through the carnage, taking quick shots at the Frigate, its hull in tatters. Kindik'Yar suspected that only the bridge and engines were still operable. As they close in for the kill, he cast away his weapons operator, manning the pulse laser himself. He took his sweet time, aiming for the one piece worth shooting: the core. Trilling with glee, he pulled the switch, and the pulse laser fired a burst of energy directly through the Human ship, detonating it in a pleasing ball of orange and gray. Satisfied with his kill, he returned to his chair. As he sat, his COMM operator crowed out "News about Kindikii. They've been annihilated. A suicide bombing on the surface destroyed the entire lance, along with many of their Jiralhanae reinforcements." "Survivors?" Kindik asked. "None of ours, sir. The Jiralhanae Chieftain survived, along with a dozen of his pack, maybe more." "It was for the best. It was time I took matters into my own hands anyways..." And with that, the Captain rose, heading to the lower hangar and armory. As he came through the door, almost 150 Kig'Yar sat preparing their weapons and dropships. Once he was noticed, the entire room saluted without hesitation, but with some haste. "Kindikuu," Kindik'Yar began. "it's your time to fight. It's time we took matters into our own hands. We're dropping into the Rice Lane. From there we'll spread out, kill whatever moves, and steal whatever doesn't." The lance erupted into a raucous applause, at the thought of getting their own share at the loot. They had been angered they had to sit out the first wave, but Kindik knew what he was doing. He had a good feeling the first wave would, for the most part, be destroyed. He decided to keep his good troops back for the second. Lance Kindikuu loaded up onto a dozen Phantoms, even then being horridly packed in. As the last few entered, Kindik'Yar boarded his own personal Phantom, accompanied by two-dozen of his Kig'Yar Cutthroats. As they launched from the ship, the Captain shouted over the COMM channel "For fame, glory, and power!" MasterGreen999 19:45, 30 July 2008 (UTC) 35 Jeremy had stayed behind for a while after his men left for their drop pods. While his men were fully prepared for battle, he wasn't sure he was. He had spoken to his grandfather just before he left for active duty. CJ had told him "The years in service were the best years of my life. But be prepared for anything, grandson, even losing the ones you love most. You have to be ready for it, Lord knows I wasn't." For possibly the first and only time of his life, Jeremy saw a Spartan cry. He glanced at a Holo-shot of his platoon, the day before they went into service. They had been just as hilarious then as now, but there was a different tone back then. They were younger, more innocent. They believed war was fun and games and medals of honor. They had learned the hard way it wasn't. First day of combat, their Lieutenant ordered them to engage with a Brute pack of almost three dozen. It was at night, and they were still tired, their brand-new officer mistook that as weakness. When they had gone in, they killed four Brute before the others could react. Apparently, most of these Brutes were related, as they took the attack as a blow to their honor. They retaliated ferociously, over two dozen charging the ODST platoon, which repelled them barely. But before anything could be done, Their Chieftain let loose with some sort of Nailer turret. Jeremy watched as his Lieutenant, three ODSTs, and his sister Kris were shredded, the Nailer rounds gouging and ripping them apart before they knew what happened. Jeremy had gone berserk, rushing the Chieftain without a second thought. He did everything in his power to kill it, but it just smirked and grabbed him, lifting him to meet the Brute eye to eye. The Chieftain pulled back his fist, but as he swung a burp from an SMG made mincemeat of it. A second burp forced the Brute to drop Jeremy. A fellow recruit, Jose Marez, ran up and dragged Jeremy to safety as Roger Wilkoe pummeled the Brute with his Sniper rifle. As the last shot was extinguished, he pulled out a SPNKr launcher and blew the Chieftain to hell. When they got back to base, Roger and Jose could have taken the credit, and claimed a hefty promotion for themselves, but instead they did nothing but praise Jeremy, insisting he become the new CO of Blackheart. Command agreed, and Jeremy was promoted to First Sergeant, leading the Platoon. To thank them, Roger and Jose were placed in charge of their own squads, and they'd been friends since. Jeremy smiled at the old picture, and went to wash his face. He could face his men drenched in tears. ---- Several minutes later, the First Sergeant walked into the dark hallway where Blackheart was to deploy from. Each man stood at the ready by their pod, fully suited in M6B Body Armor, their weapons and equipment already loaded into the pod. Jeremy walked to the halfway, so every Helljumper could hear him. "Men, we stand on the verge of victory. The Brutes have been shredded, completely thrown out of the Industrial Sector, and the Rice Line is being subjected to a massive assault from every Marine and their mother groundside. And then there's Pavlov's tower. Intel suggests no more than 300 Brutes are attacking that tower. They don't know it yet, but they're gonna need every one of those Brutes just to survive the initial drop, am I right Helljumpers?!" "SIR YES SIR!" "Damn right I am. We are gonna fall to the earth like angels from above, armed to the teeth with every holy anti-sonuvabitch machine our Lord has granted us, AM I RIGHT?!" "SIR YES SIR!" "Now you're getting the idea! In our glorious years of service, we have not yet lost a single skirmish! How in God's name are we gonna lose with an entire Battalion behind us?!" "WE WON'T, SIR!" "Hell yeah! Get in those pods, Helljumpers, we'll be launching any minute now! Will I see you, groundside, men?!" "SIR YES SIR!" "Will I see all of you?!" "HELL YES SIR!" With hollering and shouting that could be heard anywhere within three decks, the Blackhearts jumped into their pods and strapped in for the best drop in years. As Jeremy jumped into his pod, a small blue light appeared, his AI assistant Quincy, a somewhat eccentric AI that had, God knew why, chosen an Iguana as his avatar. Sir the AI began. we have picked up signals from below, we will be dropping directly on top of two Brute packs, and we will be outnumbered almost three to one--'' As the AI began his speech, Jeremy flipped a switch on the COMM channel so the entire platoon could hear him. When the AI finally finished his woeful speech, the ODST First Sergeant responded "I don't see the problem, Quincy. In case you haven't noticed, we're ODSTs." He addressed his platoon "'WHERE DO WE GO, BLACKHEART?!" "'''FEET FIRST INTO HELL, SIR!" MasterGreen999 18:21, 4 August 2008 (UTC)